"Looking at it this way…" The Snake Princess, Toritoma, elegantly lifted her teacup, sipped, and let her gaze drift over the files before her. Her red lips curved with a hint of lazy amusement.
"'Beast' Kaido… after this latest clash, his crew is stronger than ever, his territory expanded. I suppose he's earned some measure of the right to 'reign' over this part of the sea."
"That's not our concern," Gern said calmly, setting his cup down.
"Wano is across the ocean, locked away from the world. Whatever chaos happens there… it doesn't affect us… at least, not for now."
He paused, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. "What demands our attention is the man in front of us—the so-called 'Strongest Man in the World.' Don't forget, he's notoriously protective of his subordinates.Even if someone merely touches the fringes of his crew, a subordinate captain or the like, it's enough to provoke his wrath."
Tizoro, who had been quietly listening, immediately understood and spoke up. "Admiral Gern, speaking of that… the Decalban brothers we captured the day before yesterday—what should we do with them? They're currently in the temporary holding cells at the base."
The Decalban brothers had been personally apprehended by Tizoro and Lipo during a routine patrol. Clearly recent affiliates of the Whitebeard Pirates, they had flaunted their association with the legendary flag while continuing their piratical ways—plundering, burning, bullying civilians—with even greater audacity.
They had even openly seized control of villages and islands under the jurisdiction of G-10. Typical reckless fools: loud mouths with too much backing and too little ability.
So when Tizoro and Lipo intervened, capturing them and their ship was almost trivial.
Gern's expression remained unreadable. Without pause, he issued his command in a flat, chilling tone:
"Every action has consequences. If you choose to run wild under the banner of Whitebeard on my territory, you must be prepared to bear those consequences."
His eyes met Tizoro's, icy and sharp. "No medical treatment. Hang the two of them at the front cliff of the base's defense island. Let anyone entering or leaving these waters see for themselves: provoke the Marines, plunder civilians, and this is what happens. Let the Whitebeard Pirates witness our stance."
The command was clear, ruthless, and deliberate. Gern was not merely ordering imprisonment or execution; he demanded a public, humiliating display—a psychological declaration. The brothers would hang at the most visible cliff entrance, exposed to sun and rain, a living warning to any who dared challenge the Marines.
Tizoro stiffened but immediately straightened, his voice crisp: "Yes, Admiral Gern! I'll see to it immediately!"
Without hesitation, he turned sharply and left the mess hall, fully aware that in the New World, such hard—and even cruel—measures were sometimes necessary to maintain order and authority.
The room fell into a brief silence.
Enel, uninterested, continued to fuss with his breakfast.
Barrett paused mid-bite, a bloodthirsty grin flickering in his crimson eyes. He seemed to appreciate the decisiveness of Gern's approach.
Lipo nibbled her tart, blinking up at Gern with trust and innocence. She didn't grasp the full implications, but she felt no doubt in the Admiral's judgment.
Toritoma let out a quiet laugh, her gaze on Gern carrying a hint of knowing amusement. "Exactly like last night… no room for compromise. He won't sit still for this one, that's for sure."
Gern sipped the now-cooling cocoa, eyes drifting back to the turbulent seas outside. "I'll wait for him," he said lightly.
Meanwhile, on the slowly sailing Moby Dick in the New World, the mood was heavy, tense—not the usual boisterous energy.
Several injured pirate underlings knelt on the deck, crying and pleading to the mountain of a man seated in the colossal chair before them.
"Father! Please! Save our captain!""It's the Marines! White-Horn's men! They ambushed us!""The Decalban captain stayed behind to protect us… they took him! We don't know if he's alive or dead!""Please, for our sake—your subordinates—send troops to rescue them!"
These were the surviving members of the Decalban crew, desperate and beaten, placing all hope in the hands of the "Strongest Man in the World."
Seated atop the custom throne, Whitebeard gripped a massive jug of sake, expressionless as he listened to their cries. Age had touched him, but his hair remained, and his stern face betrayed neither anger nor joy.
Marco, already aware of the situation through other channels, approached quietly.
"Father," he said, leaning in and lowering his voice. "The Decalban brothers… those fools were defeated and captured by the Marines while raiding villages in Gern's territory. G-10 reports… Gern has ordered them hung at the front cliff of the base as a public warning."
Even though Marco spoke softly, the quiet deck carried his words clearly.
"'Public warning'," the term struck like a needle, wounding the pride of every Whitebeard Pirate.
The kneeling men wept harder. The captains' faces darkened. This was not just punishment—it was humiliation, an affront to the Whitebeard flag itself.
Whitebeard remained silent, then slowly took a sip from his jug. He knew the Decalban brothers were reckless, violating his rules, deserving punishment. Deep down, he despised these newcomers who tarnished his name.
Yet… he was Edward Newgate. Whitebeard.
The man who valued "family" and "honor" above all.
No matter how worthless the Decalbans were, they had declared themselves under his banner. By harming them, Gern had struck at Whitebeard himself. And to do so publicly? That was an insult not easily ignored. This was no mere rescue mission—it was a matter of his crew's reputation and dignity.
If he did nothing, who would continue to respect the Whitebeard name? What message would be sent to the pirate crews and islands seeking his protection?
Gern's move was a calculated provocation, forcing Whitebeard to react.
After a long pause, Whitebeard slammed the jug down with a resounding thud.
"Gurarara…" His low, rumbling laughter cut through the tense air as he rose, massive frame looming over the deck.
"Come to think of it… I haven't congratulated that young Marine ever since he became an Admiral…"
But his laughter faded, eyes sharpening like blades. The clouds above seemed to press down; even the Moby Dick trembled beneath his presence.
"Since he's chosen to 'invite' me this way… I'll be damned if I don't go see for myself!"